Composition Connection

Uma pulled out a wedgie and peered around the nearly empty IHOP for the girl with the red scarf. So far, there was still nothing. She peered across the room at a woman who was trying to teach her toddler how to be ladylike and failing miserably. The woman demonstrated how to wipe her mouth by dabbing the corners of her mouth, but her child just licked the corners of her mouth and took another huge bite of syrupy pancakes. The woman's older child, who was maybe six, looked on in horror. Uma's waitress, Maggie, walked past again, flashing a smile. She knew what was up. Uma bit her inner lip and jotted down a few notes on her yellow notepad.

Something about mothers, something about pancakes, how syrup represents the unity of the country... She checked her phone then went back to writing. Her mind was racing though. To be fair, she was never expecting to find anyone when she downloaded Composition Connection after her fiancee left her and writer's block hit her hard, but Jacqueline seemed so nice. She'd fallen harder than she was willing to admit, and when Jacqueline said she was coming to Dallas, Uma was eager to set a date to meet for the first time. She had worn the yellow shirt she'd told Jacqueline about on the last day of jury duty and Jacqueline was supposed to wear the red scarf her mom had knitted her right before she went to the nursing home. Uma was excited to see it, but now she doubted she would.

She sipped her coffee and began to doodle. A circle, then two more on top, then a smile and a triangle nose. A fat body, most cats she'd met were fat, then whiskers, feet and front legs, a swishing tail...

"That looks good," a soft baritone voice said.

Uma turned to see a large burly person wearing a red scarf, the Princess Leia hairstyle, and some distracting green glasses. It took a minute for Uma to register that this was Jacqueline. Upon the realization, she forced a smile.

"Jackie," she said finally, though the joy seemed a bit force.

"I'm sorry," Jacqueline said, sliding into the other side of the booth. "I was actually here earlier but I got nervous and the nearest liquor store is so far away then I came back and you were already here and I couldn't just walk in and--I know I'm not what you were expecting."

Uma smiled and took a sip of her coffee. "I mean, I'm surprised, but not turned away. I've dated someone that was transgender before."

Jacqueline's face fell. "I'm not transgender."

Uma choked on her drink. "Oh my god, I'm so--"

"Jesus, I was joking." Jacqueline let out a hearty laugh. "God, I didn't mean to scare you. My manager said I should cut that joke, but I really can't get over the reaction. It's a showstopper that's for sure."

Uma sopped up the coffee from her lips and dabbed the little puddles of coffee that had peppered her notepad. "You weren't kidding about that shock comedy. I guess I was expecting more Louis CK or Bernie Mac."

Jacqueline chuckled. "I'm an asshole, not a creep." She picked up a menu and started flipping through it. "I'd ask if there's anything good here, but it's IHOP."

"I like the crepes," Uma suggested. "But I'm getting the pumpkin spice pancakes."

"I never liked pancakes." Jacqueline looked over at the woman and her children. They were all pretending that they weren't staring except the toddler, who waved upon making eye contact with her.

Jacqueline waved back and looked at Uma with a smile. "I love kids."

"I don't," Uma said with a stifled chuckle. "My sister ruined that."

"You have nieces and nephews?"

" No, shes thirteen years younger than me. She was a pain in the ass," Uma drank more coffee. "Doesn't help that I still live at home. It's a financial thing, not a serial killer living in their mom's basement thing."

"You know 85% of serial killers are male," Jacqueline suggested. She was looking at the menu again. "You don't have tospecify that you're not a serial killer. Just surprise them."

"Nah, when I kill, I like them to know it."

Jacqueline slapped the menu down on the table and looked at Uma. "Do not tell me you are one of those cliche horror writers."

"You can never go wrong with the basics," Uma replied. "I like my victims like I like my cats. White and terrified." She paused, then her face reddened and she added, "My cat just had kittens. I don't go into a shelter tossing away other cats that aren't fully white."

"Hey, race jokes don't bother me anymore. And we are in Texas. I was expecting it. I'm more concerned with that horror thing. You don't like to ambush them?"

"No. Where's the fun in that?"

"What could be more fun than ramming a train into the building and killing both characters in the middle of a tense moment?"

"Oh my god," Uma replied, letting a long pause punctuate each word. "You did not do that."

"I did and someone published it."

"Holy shit." Uma finished her coffee and was swiveling the cup around by the handle. "I need your manager. Unless, of course, it's a conflict of interest."

"I would have thought you had your own management. I mean hell, your stuff is good. It's damn god. My mom likes it and she doesn't like anything but the Bible."

"She like the--"

"Yeah, we had this fight when I was sixteen. She got over it. Her baby's going to the WNBA instead of the NFL. She got over it. My dad though? He still can't believe the only child he made that was built like a linebacker would rather wear skirts and makeup."

"Maybe I'll meet them someday," Uma suggested. She was detailing her cat by adding stripes along its back and tail.

"Maybe you will."

Uma caught a smile on Jacqueline's face as she turned back to the lady and her kids and waved again at the staring little girl.